


Lights Down

by kaeg



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Actor!Magnus, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Dancing and Singing, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, set designer!alec
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeg/pseuds/kaeg
Summary: Magnus Bane is a stage actor, convinced he is destroying his own career while refusing to get back into the world of performing.Alec Lightwood is scared of getting what he wants, and traps himself in work that he doesn’t enjoy for a little bit of stability.But then Ragnor has to go and write a musical.(aka: the theatre au i love too much.)HIATUS/DISCONTINUED





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi, i'm katie, and i finally wrote something longer than 800 words!!  
> beta'd by meg, my literal sun and stars, who put up with all my errors and faults and paragraphs that didn't actually go anywhere.  
> (p.s. does anyone actually read theatre aus? does anyone write them? i am here, in all my anxiety-ridden glory, to set an example.)

Camille was distracted, and Magnus hated it.

Their time was already limited, with opening night almost a month away, and it was like Camille wasn't even here. Luke was nitpicking a scene, trying to bring out more emotion and get in the critics’ good books, but Camille seemed stuck in a daydream, forgetting her lines and ignoring Luke’s directions.

It was simple, really. Magnus was to walk in from behind the left divider, and Camille, the right. They would meet halfway. Camille would pull out a weapon—Luke was pushing for a gun, but knives were classy—and Magnus would push her into a prop brick wall. They were to argue back and forth until Camille began her monologue. 

It was supposed to be tense, and alluring, and was to allow Camille's character to reveal her motives. It was the scene everything seemed to depend on. If they didn't get the tone right, something would feel a little off for the rest of the night.

Magnus stood strong as he moved, rushing forward in anger; Camille walked toward him, slow and confident, and hiding her emotions behind a smile.

Everything was going as planned, but as soon as Magnus pressed himself close to Camille, pulling the prop weapon out of her grip, the mood seemed to change. She wasn't as determined. Her arguments weren't at all convincing, her voice almost monotone, and the monologue came to her in bits and pieces. 

Luke called them back to the wings to start over, and Magnus was left with nothing but confusion. The pieces weren’t clicking into place and it was infuriating.

After another hour, Luke sighed, flicking through the script before dropping it onto the chair behind him. 'We're done here. You two need to go home and get a good night's sleep.'

Magnus hopped down from the stage, taking a drink of water as Camille packed up her bag and threw it over her shoulder. 

As she turned to leave, Luke stopped her, pointing a finger. 'Be in at eleven on Wednesday, and go over your lines. We can't do this if you're holding back.'

She nodded, eyes darting toward Magnus, and smiled. 'Of course.'

And then she was walking down the hall and disappearing out the double doors.  

Magnus watched as she left, listening as the foyer doors opened and closed with a thud. Part of him wanted to follow Camille out, sit her down and ask why exactly she was holding back. He knew that he’d end up just confessing all the things he’d never had the nerve to admit, but he felt responsible for her, for this play’s success.

Because of that responsibility, he packed up his things a little faster, pushing open the doors with just a little more reckless force, and heard Luke sigh from where he stood in the auditorium.

He spotted Camille walking toward the carpark, showered in moonlight and looking more dangerous than ever. He moved toward her and reached out, grabbing her forearm gently.

She turned, cocking her hip and crossing her arms. 'What, Magnus?'

'What is bothering you lately, Camille?' Magnus said, his voice soft, and he hid his concern well. 'We could have perfected that scene today, but you were in a completely different universe. You never forget your lines.'

'Even the best have their slip ups, dear,' she murmured, and Magnus no longer cared that he was exhausted. She reached over to cover his hand with hers and all bad thoughts seemed to disappear. 'Bright and early, Wednesday morning?'

Magnus nodded, his grin too bright and his thoughts muddled. 'Wouldn't miss it.'

And then she was retreating to her car, and Magnus stood where he was until the road was empty and the night was cold, Camille's touch lingering on his skin. 

 

* * *

 

Camille showed up to rehearsal two hours late on Wednesday, and Magnus tried to convince himself that these were the kind of things he had been trained to handle, having been in Camille's company for what felt like centuries. She liked to live in the moment, taking things in her stride. If a better offer presented itself to her, she would take it and run, with no regard for whatever else she'd just abandoned in it's favour.

She called herself spontaneous; Magnus preferred the words terror inducing.

He had left about four voicemails on Camille’s phone when Luke walked in. He carried a briefcase in one hand and a three coffees in the other, juggling his car keys in between. Once settled, he turned and gave Magnus a smile.

Magnus tried to return the gesture, but it came out more like a grimace, and only then did Luke take in the fact that they were the only people in the room.

It was almost comedic, the way Luke did a double take, and Magnus watched as his confused expression turned to something more annoyed. 

'Magnus—' Luke began, and took a small step toward him. 'Where's Camille?'

Although Magnus had a variety of different ways to respond, varying from witty to honest, he simply shrugged. 

Luke scowled, and Magnus stretched out a reassuring hand. 'I haven't seen her since Monday's rehearsal. If I knew where she was, I'd be on my way there, right now.'

Luke sighed and reached down to take his and Magnus' coffees into his hands, defeated. He used one cup to gesture to Magnus' phone. 'Not answering?'

'Can't say I'm surprised,' Magnus replied, taking the drink with a nod of thanks. 'I'm assuming we can't run through what we had planned?'

Luke cocked his head, thinking to himself. He seemed to take a step toward the stage, but rooted himself in place, and Magnus made a small noise of confusion.

'I was gonna ask one of the prop guys if he wanted to fill in for Camille,' he explained. 'But we really need her here. Dammit, she knew today would be important. We're behind as it is, and Maryse is already down my throat about final touches and the importance of advertising, like I don't already know about that—'

'Luke,' Magnus cut in, shaking his head with a sort of fond disapproval, and Luke looked up. 'I know this is all very important, I do, but worrying is no use to us. Camille will answer her phone in due time, but until she does, we can work on something else.'

And for the next few hours, that’s what they did. They ran through the opening and closing scenes, and even put some effort into figuring out where Magnus would come out at the end, for his bow. With some of the bigger problems out of the way, they also decided where Magnus' props would be kept and made a few small adjustments to his general movements on stage. 

The two were conversing between themselves when the doors open and closed with a thud. Camille strolled in like she had all the time in the world, her gym bag thrown lazily over her shoulder. She gave Magnus a teasing smile, and he seethed. Before Luke had the chance, Magnus was out of his chair and storming down the hall, his footfalls loud and sharp against the wooden floor.

'Where have you been?' He narrowed his eyes. 'Bright and early, Wednesday morning, hmm? What happened to that?'

Camille rolled her eyes and moved past him, unzipping her bag. Each movement seemed cold and judgemental, and it made Magnus feel as if he was in the wrong. 'Something came up.'

Luke rose from his chair, then, and crossed his arms. 'And this  _ something _ was more important than rehearsal?'

'It appears so,' Camille said, and Magnus swore she smiled.

He threw his arms up. 'Then fill us in, by all means.'

The worst thing about Magnus and Camille was that they matched; in wit and talent, yes, but it also meant that their argumentative sides were unparalleled. Although their conflicts were usually few and far between, it seemed that neither of them ever came out on top when a conflict occurred. The only noticeable difference between them was that Camille easily hid her fears behind too-wide smiles and judgemental comments, while Magnus seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, for all to see.

So when she looked up at Magnus where he stood, smirking like she knew something he didn't, he couldn't help but feel the blood chill in his veins. 'A friend needed help. I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss all the gory details, dear.'

There was a short silence. Luke glanced at Magnus, prepared for a counter-argument, but Magnus seemed glued to the floor. His head was tilted down just enough to show that he had nothing else to say, and Luke took the opportunity, instead.

He marched back up to the front of the stage, spinning around to glare at Camille with only a little bit of malice. 'You better have that script memorised.'

'Oh, don't insult me. I'm a professional.' 

Magnus looked up as she spoke, and her eyes were trained on him, her smile ever present. He didn't know how she did it, kept up this  _ appearance,  _ and he hated that he didn’t know what she had to hide.

That evening, when Camille was gone and the room was filled with overused emotions and a deadly silence, Luke stopped Magnus with a hand on his shoulder. When he spun around, Luke's eyes were wide with concern, and he glanced at Camille's car pulling out of the parking lot.

They were alone, and Luke allowed his tone to grow soft. 'She's not good for you, Magnus.'

'Don't remind me.' Magnus tried to smile, or laugh, or take the edge off the moment, but to no avail. Instead, he rubbed his thumb and middle finger together at his side, the slightest sign of nerves.

Luke didn't let him go. It seemed his grip grew tighter, and it became a protective gesture. 'Neither of you have even talked about a relationship. She has no sense of commitment. You’ve known that for  _ years _ .'

_ I know,  _ Magnus wanted to say, throwing up his hands at what he'd realized so long ago. If he had it in him, he would've laughed.  _ I don't know what we are. I need something to hold onto, and she doesn't understand it. She toys with people, I know, but this has to be different. I know it is. I've seen the people who have lost her. I'm different. _

But instead, he stepped back from Luke's touch, and smiled.

'She wouldn't hurt me, Luke,' Magnus said, as if that was the source of his self-worth.

 

* * *

 

When Camille told him, there wasn't any sudden pain, like he'd imagined. Instead, it spread out slowly from his heart and forced the air out of his lungs, making his legs weak and his arms heavy. He saw her standing there, right in front of him, but it wasn't the Camille he knew. 

Maybe he'd never known her. Maybe he had wanted to understand her so badly that he created a different version of her in his mind. A kinder soul, littered with good intentions.

If Magnus hadn't suspected it, it might have hurt like a gunshot; sudden and straightforward. But he knew, god, he did; he'd spent so long with the idea in the back of his mind that he seemed to just deny it even more. He blocked out everyone's concerns with the belief that he could change her, like that was his life’s mission.

Magnus thought he could have this, Camille’s love. If he had this one good thing, he could hold onto it for dear life and never need to let go. It could've been sturdy in the shakiest of ways, providing Magnus with comfort, but keeping him on his toes. It would've been a good life, and he would have liked to live it.

But Camille wasn’t apologizing, and she'd stopped loving Magnus years ago. 

'You told me you wanted me,' was the first thing Magnus said, voice shaky with anger.

Camille looked astoundingly calm while she spoke. She shrugged, as if her act had been obvious from the start. 'I tell a lot of people a lot of things.' 

Magnus stepped closer, but couldn’t really stand to look at her. 'We had something going for us, Camille—'

And he didn't know why he was still here, in all honesty, when he had heard everything that he needed to. He couldn't fight for Camille's love, and yet, he still felt the need to try. It was so foreign to stand in her apartment and not feel the need to admire her, even if that admiration was always paired with a slight fear.

'We?' Camille scoffed. 'There's nothing between us, dear. You've been starved of affection for so long that you clung to me like a last resort. I never knew why— until, of course, you shared your past with me—'

'A gesture you never bothered to return—'

'I'm not overly fond of tragic sob stories, let alone my own.'

And wasn't it typical, that Camille wanted so much from Magnus but didn't think he deserved anything in return? After years, their relationship was still so one-sided that Magnus wondered why he ever stuck around.

Of course, he didn't have to think about it for long. He knew why he stayed. It felt impossible not to. 'You said it would build trust, that our similarities would make us stronger.'

Camille moved from where she stood, wandering around the room like she was already losing her patience. She paused in front of a window, and ran her hand across the fabric of the curtains. 'Darling, we're too similar. That's part of the problem.'

'That's what you wanted. You said we were equals,' Magnus snapped. Memories of conversations flooded back, and he remembered the feeling of Camille's hand in his, her voice as soft as ever. ‘You know, you once said you would never hurt me.’

'And when was that? Back in high school, when the jobs practically came to us.' She turned to Magnus, a hand on her hip. 'You know as well as I do that producers will eat up audition pairings with chemistry, on and off stage.'

And although it took Magnus a minute, he could suddenly piece it together. Why Camille had been around for so long, even when she wanted to be anywhere but by Magnus' side. Why she always chose what shows to audition for, and why every decision was made final by her word. 

'So...that was it? I was an easy way to fill your resumé?' And Magnus realized that he had just been her strategy, an easy way into an impossible business. Magnus gave Camille what she wanted for years without even knowing it.

She rolled her eyes before turning away again. 'Oh, don't look so disheartened, dear. I doubt you  _ disliked _ having a job.'

Magnus stepped up to her side and spoke as if there were people around them, likely to overhear. The situation felt too private, and it terrified him. 'You promised me you would be upfront with me. Always.'

She turned to look at him and smiled, all knowing. 'I'm being upfront now, aren't I?'

Magnus hated how she was right, how there was no real fault in her logic. The only reason he didn't find out was because he wasn't observant enough to  _ realise.  _ Camille was being rational, and he couldn't fault her. 

A question came to mind, and Magnus felt himself go on autopilot. There was no need for a filter anymore. 'How long?'

'Hmm?' 

'How long have you…How long has this all been going on?'

She paused, looking away in thought, considering all the different ways she could reply. And then, 'A little more than a year, on and off.'

'And you...you were just going to let it continue?' Magnus' thoughts were spiralling, and he wondered just how gullible he looked for all that time, not knowing the truth and refusing to even pay it any thought. 

Camille smiled like she enjoyed the sight of Magnus unfurling before her. 'You seemed content, and so was I.'

'You were  _ toying _ with me.'

'You've always enjoyed it in the past.' She shrugged, and the two locked eyes. Her hand came up from her side, and she used it to caress Magnus' shoulder. Magnus kept himself from leaning into the touch. 'From the first day we met, there was…a spark, let’s say. Something new and exciting. And our time has been fun, it truly has, but you're too....predictable. What happened to the man I used to know, hmm? Parties, drinking, taking risks?'

She stepped even closer, and her voice was so quiet that even Magnus strained to hear. Her hand moved from his shoulder to his neck, and she ran her thumb along the bottom of his jaw.

'What made you so soft, Magnus?'

He knew that this was one of her games. He knew she was bringing up past memories to torture him in the present, and yet— 

'It was all you, can't you see?' He sounded exasperated, eyes wide and pleading. ‘I loved you.’

Camille paused, and cocked her head to the side just slightly. She smiled something small and knowing before reaching up to take Magnus' face in both her hands.

For a small, fleeting moment, he thought he'd won her back. Maybe this was what he’d needed to tell her all along. He'd tell her until she believed it, until she made him feel worthy, until— 

Camille shook her head. Her breath brushed against Magnus' skin and he couldn't resist leaning in this time, savouring her touch like he was on his deathbed and she was a dying man’s wish.

'Oh, darling, you still do,' she said, and then Magnus was walking toward the door, with no real idea of where to go.

 

* * *

 

Alec knocked twice before entering, and opened the door slowly. 'Mother?'

The first thing he saw was Maryse pacing, a phone to her ear. She glanced at Alec before she muttered an apology and ended the call, dropping the phone onto her desk. 'What, Alec? We're  _ extremely  _ busy today, and I asked for no interruptions.'

'I was just, ah, talking to Luke earlier about the spacing of the props and dividers,' Alec began, tapping the edge of his notebook with the pen that had been previously tucked behind his ear. 'We have the concept for the back wall down, and I can start on that whenever you'd like. It's just that, uh, we only have one divider on each side of the stage, and Luke said that it makes the stage look smaller than it is, which I agree with. It makes the scenes look crowded and the audience will also be able to see backstage a lot of the time.'

Alec lifted his eyes, trying to pin down what Maryse was thinking, before ducking his head again. 'Luke put in a request for two new dividers, and we'll— uh, I'll have to paint them, but I don't know if it'll fit into the budget—'    

'Do _ you _ think we need extra dividers?' Maryse asked, and it took Alec a few seconds to realize she was asking for an opinion.

'Well, they would up the overall quality of the production, and they'd give Luke more freedom with the scenes.' Alec opened his mouth to continue, but Maryse waved a hand, and smiled up at him. 

'We can restrict the lighting a little, I'm sure Simon won't mind. Tell Luke it's been approved—'

Her phone rang again. She glanced at the screen and huffed. 

'Or, I'll tell him myself,' she said, lifting the phone to her ear and leaning against the edge of her desk. 'Afternoon, Luke. I just spoke to Alec about—'

Suddenly, Maryse tensed, and nodded gently to whatever Luke was saying. When she spoke, her voice was cold. 'We'll deal with it. I’d recommend calling Nicolas sooner, rather than later.'

She dropped the phone back onto the desk and seemed to resist the urge to put her head in her hands. She sighed instead, clenching her jaw and bowing her head.

'Mom?' Alec said, voice quiet, tucking the pen behind his ear and stepping closer.

She shook her head, as if in denial. 'Magnus Bane just stepped down from his role.'

'What?' Alec said, eyes wide as he glanced at the ground in thought. 'But he's…He can’t, not now. Why would— I mean, he's been praised by every company he's worked with. Why would he just…'

'I'm not sure,' Maryse said, pushing herself away from the desk. 'But that doesn't matter anymore. He's going to end up ruining his career before it's even really started, and Luke has a formal letter to prove it.  _ Honestly,  _ a letter. What year is it?’

She moved across the room, placing a small folder back into a filing cabinet. ‘Apparently, he refuses to train his understudy, or even speak to Camille Belcourt.'

Alec made a noise of question. 'Weren't they dating?'

'There was no romantic involvement between Mr. Bane and Ms. Belcourt, Alec,' Maryse said, as if reprimanding them, and she glanced at him before turning back to the wall. 'They're both untrustworthy and have no sense of commitment. I have no idea why they were hired in the first place.'

'He's talented,' Alec said, and then backtracked. ' _ They're _ talented. Both of them. That’s how you get into this business.'

'Talent and money are just opposite ends of the same coin, Alec,' Maryse said. 'You can't have one without the other.'

_ You know that better than anyone,  _ was how it should've ended, but those last few words went unspoken.

 

* * *

 

'I was just on the phone with Luke.'

Magnus stretched as he stood up, swirling the glass of whiskey in his hand. 'And now you're on the phone to me. That's a wonderful sign.'

Ragnor sighed. 'He said that you left, Magnus.'

And Magnus could tell immediately that this wasn't just some social call, or a casual check-in. This was Ragnor's—and possibly Luke's—plan to get him to talk about what had happened, when that was the last thing he wanted to do. 

It was still going better than Magnus had imagined. The words  _ I told you so  _ had been ringing in his head for days, and he hadn't heard them out loud yet. He ignored the way his throat seemed to tighten around his words as he moved from the door to the window, and back again. 'There were…complications. You know how this business can be.'

Ragnor scoffed. 'No, but I know how Camille Belcourt can be. I've watched you chase after her for years.'

'It wasn't her fault, Ragnor. It was mine. Apparently I'm too predictable, too… _ soft _ .' Magnus said the word with a hint of disgust, and tapped his nails against his glass. 

'There's nothing wrong with being kind, my friend, no matter what she tells you.’

'If you heard how she said it, you'd think it's disgraceful, too.’ He gave up pacing with a sigh and collapsed back down onto the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 'For years, I fooled myself into believing that I was special to her. When I spoke to her last, I realized that there was nothing between us. I was just talent for her to exploit.'

When Magnus was young, and Camille was nothing but a temptation and a mystery, he would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth without so much as a second thought. The mere idea of them existing at the same time seemed like something they needed to flaunt, and so they did, in the form of sleepless nights and wandering eyes, alcohol burning on lips and smoke pressing heavy on their lungs. But then the years began to drag by, carrying Magnus along with them, and although things felt stable, they didn’t really feel  _ right. _

Allowing Camille to occupy such a large part of his heart had never felt right, either, come to think of it.

'You're letting her win, Magnus. She doesn't deserve that role, that credit, and you're letting her take it,' Ragnor said, and he sounded almost exasperated, probably gesticulating madly behind the phone.

'I can't  _ face her _ ,' Magnus snapped, defeated, as he ran a hand down his face and scratched at his jaw. 'I can't speak to her.'

He stood up in a swift, dizzying movement, refilling his whiskey and downing it in one. He managed to ignore the way Ragnor mumbled in disapproval, and searched for a spare bottle. 

His hands were shaking, he realized, as he went to unscrew the lid. He noted the way his mind felt fuzzy and his thoughts slow, and left the bottle on the coffee table. 

'I don't care if I'm letting her win, Ragnor. It was a losing battle from the start.’ Magnus ended the call and slamming his glass down into the sink so hard it might’ve cracked.

 

* * *

 

 

When Simon called Alec and told him to be at the Hunter's Moon at nine, he'd expected it to just be the two of them. They did this, sometimes; after a long day, they liked losing themselves in terrible drinks and discussions about the work they pretended to enjoy.

(Simon loved his work, of course. He loved controlling the mood of a scene with lighting, knowing that underneath it all, the visual atmosphere rested on his shoulders, even if music and composing was his unobtained true north. Alec did his work because he was good at it, and because people would be happy with him for it.  _ His  _ true north was an undiscovered star, hidden behind everyone else’s glaring light.)

He showed up to a full table. Izzy was closest with Simon’s arm around her shoulders, laughing against into shirt. Jace sat beside Clary, and the two were idly chatting between themselves. Across from Izzy was Aline, and beside Aline, there were two empty seats. 

Simon looked up as Alec approached and cheered loud enough to alert the entire bar. The others all looked up in sync, responding with differing levels of excitement, and Alec rolled his eyes as he sat down.

'You're all so dramatic,' he grumbled, and Aline leaned across to kiss him on the cheek. They grinned at each other, lopsided and childish.

'For good reason,' she said, throwing an arm casually over the back of her seat. 'You could've been dead, for all we knew. I haven't seen you in weeks.'

'Someday we're going to find you unconscious on the floor of your apartment, covered in paint and white spirits,' Simon grinned, and Izzy couldn't stop herself from watching him with a small, adoring smile.

'Haven't you heard, Simon?' Jace cut in, head tilted in a teasing gesture. 'He practically lives in the theatre now.'

'It's called work,' Alec muttered, and Izzy laughed from across the table.

'At least some of us know when to clock out on time.' Maia approaching from behind the bar, balancing a tray of glasses in her hands and lowering it onto the table. Everyone reached for their orders as Maia settled into the empty seat next to Alec, leaning across the table to kiss Jace quickly.

Simon took a sip of his drink before leaning back in his chair. 'Alec, we brought you here 'cos we thought—'

Maia threw up a hand in objection. ' _ I  _ thought—'

'We _ all  _ thought you needed a break, man!' Simon shrugged, feigning innocence, and laughed when Maia stuck her tongue out at him.

'I know I've been busy,' Alec said, looking down at the cider in front of him. 'Mom's been on edge really, with ticket sales and promotion. And, uh, one of the leads dropped out today, so that's something.'

'Let me guess, now you're getting the crap for it?' Izzy said, shaking her head in annoyance. 'You have to stop letting Mom pin everything on you, Alec.'

'She has to pin it on someone,' Alec shrugged. 'I'd rather it be me than somebody like Magnus Bane.'

'Isn't he the cute one that was featured in Playbill before?' Izzy asked, leaning forward with curiosity. 'Why’s he taking smaller roles?'

'Dunno,' Alec said, sipping his drink. 'He goes wherever Camille Belcourt goes.' 

And Alec wondered for a moment how Camille Belcourt had gotten Magnus Bane to follow her to the ends of the earth for so long. He didn’t know them, and he didn’t know their stories, but the way rumours spread, stories altered and retold, maybe Magnus felt like he didn’t really have the option of leaving her.

Alec knew that feeling all too well, and almost laughed.

'Oh, Simon?' He said instead, pushing down his thoughts of a man he didn’t even know. Simon turned away from Izzy and toward him. 'I talked to Maryse the other day about the new stage setup—'

The majority of the table groaned into their drinks at the mention of work, but Simon and Alec both rolled their eyes.

'What'd she say?' Simon asked.

'She approved it, but I think we'll need to cut back on lighting a little.'

'There's a couple scenes where lots of mood lighting isn’t really needed. I'll go over—' 

A chair screeched against the floor as it moved, and Maia stood up. 'How drunk do I have to get you two before you let yourselves have some fun?' She pointed a finger between Alec and Simon and tucked the empty tray under her arm.  'Another round, everyone?'

A chorus of cheers rose from the table, but Alec laughed, waving his hand in dismissal. 'I really can't, I should—'

But Maia was already making her way back to the bar, and Aline gestured between herself and Alec. 'Maia, get us some shots, will you?' 

Alec made a noise of protest. 'No, Maia, don't you—'

'C'mon, Alec, live a little!' Aline said, leaning into him and nudging his shoulder. 

Maia returned with another full tray a few moments later, and from then on, the night dissolved into the kind that Alec had missed so dearly. When he looked around the table he saw all of his closest friends the way they should've been; carefree, and happy, and without the weight of adulthood on their backs.

Sure, they were all happy. Most of them loved what they did for a living, and joy was a regular thing. But the monotonous lifestyle they'd all sworn off in their teenage years was suddenly what they were facing, and Alec was terrified that someday he'd be the mirror image of the person he'd tried to run from his entire life.

Of course, he knew that he was already getting all that would be afforded to him in the near future, but he looked around the table and determined that everyone else deserved so much more. They deserved to dare and be rewarded for it, to be the defiance everyone was always so terrified of.

When the group stumbled out of the Hunter's Moon in the early hours of the morning, Alec couldn't help but wonder what his life would be like if he was just a little more daring. With his arm around Aline's shoulders, he wondered why he was so scared to try.

 

* * *

 

_ 2 MONTHS LATER _

 

Magnus received an envelope, glittering gold against the early morning sun, but dull to his tired eyes. Inside it was a single ticket for the opening night of the show.

He didn't order it. He wouldn't have needed to buy tickets before, and he definitely didn't have a reason now. They found a home on the kitchen counter and he had intended on dumping them, or giving them away. Burning them would've been a logical choice, too, if not a little overdramatic.

But Magnus obviously wasn't going for logical choices, because the dark blue light from the ceiling of the auditorium made the lapels of his suit glow from where he sat in his front-corner seat, and while his hands were shaking with anxiety, his chest burned with something akin to jealousy.

_ This is a bad idea,  _ his mind screamed. He knew this was the exact opposite of moving on. He didn't know how he woke up this morning, put on a suit, and did his makeup without questioning once how stupid he was really being. 

The theatre began to fill up and Magnus attempted to shrink down in his seat as the chairs next to him became occupied. There were designated areas for journalists and photographers, and thankfully, none of them even looked in his direction. He could only imagine what it would look like to an outsider, for him to leave the production and suddenly show up to see it on opening night.

He could imagine the cast running over lines and sequences backstage. He could imagine the panic the tech crew felt. He could imagine Luke's heart pounding as he prayed for the night to go smoothly.

Magnus imagined Camille, almost smiling for what could've been. 

The auditorium lights went down and the curtain was pulled back, revealing the stage he should've been standing on, the props he should've been using. Camille entered for her first scene, and Magnus wished he could’ve enjoyed it.

He couldn't fault her for her performance, all things considered. Compared to what he'd seen two months ago, when she'd been hiding her talent behind lies, Magnus was floored. She put forward just the right amount of emotion and wit to make her character believable. She looked stunning, too, and it made Magnus feel like he should send the costume department a bouquet.

The understudy—his name was Nicolas, apparently, but Magnus couldn't find it in himself to want to remember it—played his role well, too. After pushing down envy, Magnus could even enjoy his performance. There was tension between him and Camille onstage, but it was the good kind; the kind where you felt stretched out, ready to snap at any moment. It was the tension needed to pull off the scene, and Magnus could admit that before, he and Camille had been nowhere close to achieving it.

Nicolas pushed Camille up against one of the walls and the entire audience was captivated by her monologue, by the mixture of confidence and terror in her voice, and Magnus wanted to be enthralled. He wanted to forget the time and place until the play was done, until the cast appeared for their bows, and he wanted to feel that they were all worthy of the inevitable standing ovation they'd receive.

_ That could've been me,  _ Magnus thought, instead.  _ If I was better, if I was braver, that could've been me. _

He clapped with the rest of the audience as each cast member appeared on stage for their bows. Some of them even spotted him and smiled. Camille and Nicolas came on last, and if the applause was obnoxiously loud, Magnus ignored the uproar, because Camille met his eyes almost expectantly as she moved across the stage. She smiled something sweet, something smug, something terrifying, and time seemed to freeze around Magnus while everyone else continued on just fine. 

He stood up in a haze once the auditorium began to empty out, and followed the crowd into the foyer. Everyone was conversing and it seemed unnaturally loud, even for somebody like him, who thrived off of social situations like these. He attempted to look for some friendly faces but came up empty, and didn't feel like wasting time waiting for somebody to show up. He turned toward the door.

Camille was standing at the entrance, shaking hands and accepting hugs as people trailed out into open air, cold and bitter where it nipped at their fingertips. She was smiling bright, and had changed into a more suitable gown for the occasion. Magnus really shouldn't have been surprised; of course she was doing this, she always did. It was a tradition of theirs to greet the journalists and audience members, try and hold a conversation, accept their compliments and come off humble. It helped to keep a good impression, and made them appear more humane.

But Magnus was in the foyer, and Camille was at the door, and she knew he was here. She'd know when he left. There was no hidden way to get past her, so the hand that gripped his waist and pulled him back inside as he reached the door was what he’d been waiting for. 

Her voice was soft, but there was something hidden behind it, something almost ominous. 'Magnus.'

They faced each other, and Magnus wondered when he’d learned to hide sadness so well.

'Camille,' he said, smiling, and nodded in acknowledgement. 'Congratulations on your performance tonight. A successful opening night always leads to many more just like it.'

Camille hummed, and Magnus was acutely aware of the way her hand stayed on his waist, fingers pressing into skin. 'I suppose so.'

She paused, leaned in slightly. Her breath was warm against the side of his face, and he tried to pass his shiver off as the cold. 'The only thing that would have made the night better was if it was you on that stage with me. I guess having you sit in the crowd was enough. You’re welcome for the ticket, by the way.'

And at that, Magnus jumped back, almost breaking composure. His smile faltered, and although it was subtle, Camille spotted it, as if it's what she had been looking for. The room was still bustling around them but everything seemed to have gone quiet.

She stepped around him in a small circle, a hand trailing along the muscles of his arms, and he had to bite down on the urge to run. 

'Emotions will be your downfall, darling,' Camille murmured, satisfied, 'There are only so many ways to ruin a career, and you're doing fine all on your own.'

She disappeared through the auditorium door, heels like knives against the tiles, and it took Magnus an eternity to figure out how to move again. He almost stumbled outside and breathed in the bitterness of the night to forget how undeniably warm Camille felt.

He fished his car keys from his pocket, and wished he'd brought a coat. He wished he could overwrite Camille’s authenticity, her warm touch and silky voice and trailing eyes with something artificial.  

But there were footsteps behind him, and he froze.

'Uh, hello?' A voice said, low and honeyed, with something that made Magnus feel inexplicably _warm._ It was something different to Camille’s threatening, suffocating heat; instead, it made shards of light dance through Magnus’ veins, like he was just a little too tipsy from a little too much champagne, and he felt utterly weightless.

He turned around and was met by something quite extraordinary. 

'Good evening,' he said, ignoring the way his voice suddenly felt strained as warmth pooled in his stomach, and paid more attention to the man with the leather jacket and five o'clock shadow standing just a metre away in an empty parking lot. 'Do you need something?'

'No. Well, uh, yes, actually,' the man said, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. 'I've worked here for a while, and just, uh…'

Magnus looked up at him with more hope than he should've had in a stranger, and the man stepped closer.  

'You were perfect for that role,' the man said, walking until the two were mere feet away. 'Nobody who saw the play tonight knows it, because they've only seen the new guy. They don't know what they're missing.'

He paused. 'Please don't forget that.'

And Magnus started smiling, even if part of him was still breaking. He smiled and smiled like it was all he knew how to do and quietly laughed, tipping his head forward, eyes up. 'I'm Magnus. Nice to meet you…?'

'Uh, Alec.' His eyes widened like he hadn't been expecting it, but then Alec was smiling, the corner of his mouth turned up into a lopsided grin, and he bowed his head as if to hide it.

For just a moment, Magnus wanted to breach the distance between them and tip Alec's chin up to see the smile linger, to watch the way moonlight played with his features. 

Magnus had seen beautiful men, and this was something else entirely. But then the moment was gone as if he had never even felt it pass, and part of him wanted to reach out, take it, store it away. 

'I should go,' Alec said, and Magnus swore there was some disappointment in his voice, hesitation in the way he swayed where he stood. 'There's, uh, clean up, and Luke probably needs me for…stuff—'

'You're a busy man,' Magnus said, and waved a hand in dismissal. 

Alec was turning, then, jacket spreading across broad shoulders as he took a step back toward the building, shoes scuffing against gravel. Only then did Magnus realize, after all that he’d thought and felt, he never said—  

'Thank you, Alec.' It was sudden and loud, maybe even desperate. 'Really.'

'No problem.' Alec spun around, grinning, hands clasped behind his back. He backed up slowly, and there was a soft sincerity in his voice when he spoke. 'Have a good night.'

'I will,' Magnus said, and it felt like a promise.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: proper first meetings and a couple of martinis can go a long way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo i edited this a grand total of 7 times and had to stop before i dropped off into a coma.  
> sorry for the long wait between chapters!! school has started back up, yada yada yada, you know the drill. hope you enjoy!!

'I don't understand what the problem is,' Raphael sighed, reaching forward to accept a mug of coffee from Dot with a thankful nod.

'The problem—' Magnus appeared from the kitchen, holding his own mug in his hands as he flopped down into an empty armchair—'is that I became acquainted with somebody new in a moment of heartbreak, and I haven’t been able to forget him since.'

'He must've been special if he has you all in knots,' Catarina noted, one arm thrown lazily over Dot’s shoulders.

Ragnor huffed, crossing his legs and leaning back in the sofa. 'Cat, dear, they barely spoke. It's quite impossible to fall in love through a two minute conversation.'

'We'll leave it up to Magnus to try,' Dot said, and grinned in Magnus' direction.

'I don't know what to think,' Magnus murmured, voice quiet as he deflated into the cushions. 'He was probably just trying to boost my ego.'

'Perhaps he's a fan,' Catarina suggested, pursing her lips in the half-sarcastic way she did. 

Magnus rolled his eyes, a fond thing. 'No, he works at the Institute. I've never seen him before, though, which is peculiar.'

Dot held her mug in front of her face, smirking, her voice low. 'Well, I like him.'

Ragnor shot her a look. 'You don't know the man!'

'I'll be knowing him once Magnus tracks him down,' she muttered, tipping her head in Magnus’ direction, eyebrows raised in question.

'I am not  _ tracking him down,  _ Dorothea.' 

'Is it really such a bad idea?' Catarina said, nonchalant as ever. 'Perhaps you should go back to the Institute. With a stroke of luck, he'll be there.'

Ragnor propped his head up with his hand pressing into his chin, grinning into his knuckles. 'Alternatively, you ask around for a man named Alec with a smile to bring about world peace who sports oh, so delightful facial hair—'

'You're all nuisances,' Magnus grumbled, and stood up, pouting in a way that was reserved for when his friends were being particularly ridiculous. He strode toward the coat rack, pulling on his jacket with especially fluid movements. 'I can't believe I'm discussing such delicate matters around a bunch of gossipers.'

Dot leaned forward as Magnus moved toward the front door, mug on the coffee table as she clasped her hands, humming with intrigue. 'Where are you going?'

'Oh, nowhere.’ Magnus smiled down at the handle, trying to suffocate it and feign seriousness as he opened the door into the hallway. ‘I’m just very busy, all of a sudden. Things to do, people to see.’

He waved back at the four of them as they stared, sitting in various states of confusion in the living room—but it was more of an elegant curl of the fingers, like he was holding his plans in the palm of his hand. He stepped out into the hall with a hand still on the doorknob and closed it behind him with a gentle click. 

Back in the living room, the others took an almost comedic moment to process. They looked from the door to each other with raised eyebrows and expressions of fond exasperation.

Dot glanced over at Catarina. 'He's gone to track the boy down, hasn’t he?'

'Oh, of course.' 

 

* * *

 

'Hey, big brother.’

'Hey, Iz,’ Alec said, feet hesitating as he opened the apartment door, still standing on the floorboards as he edged toward the carpet. His voice, quiet and apologetic, filled the otherwise silence of the room and leaked into the hallway. ‘I, uh— I know I was supposed to come over tonight for dinner tonight—'

Izzy leaned away from the phone, mumbling amidst car horns and running water, before making an excited little noise. 'Oh, yeah! Simon found an old recipe book his Mom gave him and he's been dying to try some—'

'I can't come over, Iz. I'm sorry.' He paused for a moment, and Izzy went silent. It was so distinct that guilt pushed down on Alec’s chest like a living, breathing thing. 'Mom wants, uh, she wants me to help with storage, cleaning the place up. You know how it is.'

And a part of Alec wanted to give in, wanted to say  _ screw it,  _ wanted to take a few hours to spend with his sister and best friend. He wanted to distract Izzy with dramatic retellings of childhood stories and let Simon make dinner because he loved to treat Izzy like she deserved. He wanted to fall asleep with an empty cup of tea tucked against his hip on the couch, and wake up slowly and groggily to the sound of Simon singing in the shower. Well-worn routines were like nostalgic comforts, and Alec wanted to relive them all. 

But then he thought about Maryse, and the work that didn’t need to be done but was done anyway, and the way she would scowl if he didn’t show up, as if to say  _ if anything falls apart, it’s on you.  _

He shrugged to himself, like an excuse. 'It won't take that long, I swear. If I finish early, I'll drive over to your place.'

'It's okay, Alec,’ Izzy said, and she sounded  _ exhausted _ ; not from sleep-deprivation, but from all of Alec’s complications. ‘Don't make promises you can't keep.' 

And Alec shouldn’t have felt as terrible as he did, because Izzy’s voice was soft and understanding, and she was probably giving him a pitiful smile. But this was his sister, and she was pinning him down as unreliable, untrustworthy, all the things he’d never wanted to be. 'This is exactly why I got out of the Institute, and you think it's all you're going to get.'

Alec sighed. 'It's not that.'

'She's controlling you. She knows you're capable of so much more, but—'

'That's exactly why I stay,’ he blurted out, and it was  _ true,  _ but to say it out loud for the first time was  _ terrifying.  _ ‘She  _ knows.  _ She knows that I’m capable of…of  _ something. _ And if she knows that, someday she might, y'know…'

'Let you make your own decisions?' Izzy scoffed, soft and slightly angry. Alec nodded gently to the empty room, because acknowledging that he still didn’t have his full power of choice felt too much like a surrender. 'She's not the one stopping you from doing what you want, Alec. Nobody's doing that but yourself.'

'Izzy, this is— It's complicated, okay?'

' _ You _ make it complicated. You overthink, and second guess.' And well, she wasn’t  _ lying,  _ but Alec lived a life full of obstacles, and every move had to be calculated.

He could almost see Izzy frown, condescending and disappointed, through the phone. She sighed. 'Look, this isn't a conversation to be having right now. If you still want to come over later, we'll be here.'

Alec bowed his head, and it hovered moments from the cold wood of the door. 'Thanks, Iz. Love you.'

'Love you too.'     

 

* * *

 

Magnus went back to the Institute to convince himself that it was closed. That was it. He wanted to treat it as a turning point, as something bad leading into something  _ better. _ He’d wanted to fail in his efforts, in a sense; if he forgot Alec existed, he’d be able to get on with things. He’d be able to focus on things that mattered, like his friends and his spiralling career.

But then he reached the Institute, and the main door opened when he pushed on it. Stepping inside felt wrong, almost, with the way labelled boxes stood piled in the foyer and clothing hung from metal racks.

And Magnus was barely in the threshold, still eyeing the walls of trophies and photographs and mementos, when he heard— 

He heard  _ singing. _

Well, it was more like humming, with the odd muttered word. And then Magnus recognised the voice, the softness of it, gravelly with the slightest accent. 

He hurried over to the auditorium like he was drawn to it and grabbed at the doors, pulling one open, leaning in and scanning the room.

Magnus spotted Alec on the stage; he lay flat, hands clasped behind his head. A coffee stood near his side and he was smiling absentmindedly at the ceiling, his phone resting on his stomach, only one earphone in.  __

Magnus stepped into the hall.

'I wouldn't fall asleep on that stage, if I were you,' he said, his steps relaxed, his voice quiet and teasing. 'Not very comfortable. Believe me, I'd know.'

Alec sat up on his elbows, squinting down at Magnus as he moved up the floor. After a moment, his surprised expression disappeared, morphing into something more… _ relieved. _ 'Oh. It’s you.' 

Magnus grinned, holding out his hands like he was opening himself for observation. 'Is that a bad thing?' 

'No, no,' Alec said, stifling a yawn as he reached for his coffee. 'I just didn't think I'd see you around here, after…y'know. Everything.'

‘Everything?’ Magnus hummed, and disguised the ache in his chest with the warmth in his veins. 'So you  _ do  _ know who I am.’

Alec moved over to the edge of the stage, rolling his coffee cup in his hands with no intent on finishing it. 'Of course, yeah.’

He paused, then; glancing up at Magnus through his lashes before smiling shyly at his lap. ‘I still meant what I said. All of it.’ 

Magnus smiled. ‘And it wasn’t said out of pity, no?’

‘Nope.’

Magnus made his way closer to the stage, then, climbing the steps and sitting down beside Alec on the scratched wooden floor. 

'Well, then,’ he murmured. 'Thank you for the compliment.'

Alec hummed, clasping his hands together. 'No problem.'

They sat together for a moment, taking in the hall; the folded seats, their red velvet coverings blending with the darkened floorboards; the chandelier, catching reflection of the other lights as they emitted their soft yellow glow. Dust was building up along the stage, clinging to fabric, gathering atop boxes.

Everything seemed so empty, and lonely, and  _ forgotten.  _

'May I ask a question?' Magnus said, when the silence was teetering on the edge of awkward and Alec looked ready to run.

'Uh, sure.'

'Is Alec short for something?'

'Yeah—Alexander,' Alec pursed his lips. 'Alexander, um, Lightwood.'

Magnus froze, almost on reflex, and then widened his eyes in realization. 'No. No, you're not—'

'Maryse Lightwood's son?' Alec laughed, slightly embarrassed and slightly deprecating. 'Sorry to disappoint.'

'I'm not disappointed,’ Magnus said, and smiled something reassuring, ‘just…shocked. The two of you are nothing alike.'

Alec huffed, eyes dropping momentarily to the floor. 'You've known me for all of five minutes. I don't think you're the best person to decide that.' 

'I'm a good judge of character, mind you,' Magnus said.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Alec's mouth; something small and hidden. 'Oh?'

'Oh, yes, of course.' 

He looked up, and met Magnus' eyes with a glint of mischief in his own. 'Give it a try, then.'

'Hmm?'

'Go on—judge my character.' Alec shifted a little where he sat, like he was presenting himself to the world.

'Alright,' Magnus said, and grinned despite the mask of serious he was trying to hold onto. He shook out his shoulders, eyeing Alec up and down like it was for judgement instead of his own satisfaction.

(In a private moment of self-indulgence, Magnus noted that Alec wore sweatpants and loose-fitting v-necks obscenely well, and wondered how Alec’s stubble would feel against his skin.)

'You're kind, perhaps even selfless. You're a loyal friend, and a dedicated worker.' Magnus waved his hand with a flourish, and Alec snorted at the generic answers. He leaned in slightly, meeting Alec’s eyes with a raised eyebrow and a teasing grin. ‘You’ll do whatever it takes to right a wrong, and everyone else’s well being is your priority.’

And sure, he sounded like he was the world’s worst personality quiz, but getting to see Alec’s face light up momentarily with a smothered laugh was worth it.

Magnus had heard the rumours, though. He knew the stories told during rehearsals about the Lightwood children, about the way they walked with hunched shoulders and shaky hands. Part of him wondered if Alec was selfless and dedicated because he wanted to be, or because his parents approved of it. 

He spoke with caution, tiptoeing along a fraying rope. 'You don't know what you want, and you're scared to find out.'

Alec made a small noise in the back of his throat, something cautious. 'That last one sounds very, um,  _ negative _ .'

'It's just a pertinent piece of information at this point in time.' Magnus pressed his hands to the floor of the stage behind him, leaning back on them. 'I wouldn't have said it if I didn't know who your mother was. I remember seeing her plastered onto the cover of every magazine across the city. And then one day, she pulls away from all she’s ever known and buys a  _ theatre _ .’

He paused for a moment. ‘I'm presuming Isabelle Lightwood is your sister?'

'Izzy, yeah,' Alec murmured, a fond smile on his lips.

'She makes Isabelle into the shining star, and we don't hear a word about her other children—really, I couldn’t even recognise you when we first met. Isabelle doesn’t go to a prestigious drama college, or any college at all, and from then on, the Lightwood acting reputation is a thing of the past. And now, years later, I find you becoming—what, a graffiti artist?'

'Stage manager,' Alec grumbled, shoulders sagging slightly.

' _ Why _ ?' Magnus asked, sounding almost exasperated—and wasn’t that something, that Magnus was already rooting for Alec’s happiness when he didn’t even know what troubled him.

'I, uh….It’s just— I’m—' Alec fidgeted absentmindedly, tipping his head forward with a small, defeated sigh. 'I'm not sure. This work, it's…it's all I know. Without it, I dunno who I'd be.'

Magnus smiled, small and encouraging. 'Maybe you should try and find out.' 

Alec shrugged, and after a beat of silence, began rummaging through his pocket. He produced a small, silver key, and held it out in front of Magnus.

'I was supposed to finish some stuff today. Packing, cataloguing, the usual,' he began, hopeful. 'I have a spare at home. If you ever need somewhere to just…If things get too  _ much,  _ y’know—'

He gestured lazily to the key, face pinched in frustration, like the right words just weren’t coming to mind.

'I understand,' Magnus nodded, and smiled. He figured that this auditorium, for all the memories attached, was a safe place for Alec to be alone—and here he was, sharing that space with Magnus, giving him access to something so private. 

Magnus stood up, moving down the floor with steps just a little too loud in the vast silence, and part of him knew that their meeting was too brief, too sudden, that Alec wouldn’t have the motivation to follow him—

But then Alec stood up, and jumped down from the steps so fast he could’ve fallen.

'Why did you come here?' he asked, sudden and breathless. 

He was a fair distance away, but Magnus noticed the smile he wore; confused and curious, a playful thing. And for a small moment, Magnus felt the temptation to stay, because it would’ve been so incredibly easy to talk until he’d used up all of his words, until he was lightheaded and needy in the best possible ways. 

But Magnus couldn’t tell what Alec was feeling, even as a man who could read others like open books.

'Why do you think, Alexander?' He murmured, cherishing the beauty of the name on his tongue, before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hall.

 

* * *

 

'Simon?' 

'Yeah, Iz?' Simon said as he kicked the front door closed, shuffling into the kitchen with two shopping bags stuffed under his arms. He kissed Izzy's cheek in greeting and set the bags down with a thud on the dining table.

'When was the last show at the Institute?' Izzy asked. She emptied one bag as she spoke, and Simon emptied the other, lazily pouring the contents onto the counter. 

'Uh…a bit more than two week ago,' Simon said. 'Maybe two and a half?' 

'And Alec's still working. Huh,' Izzy muttered to herself, a hand curled around the fridge door. 'That doesn't sound right.'

'I mean, maybe Maryse is working him really hard. She does that a lot,' Simon said, and shrugged.

'Si, I visited you one day at work and you were playing the Star Wars complete soundtrack during rehearsal.' Izzy tipped her head toward him and smirked. 'I don't think you know much about overworking.'

Simon hummed in amusement, stretching to tuck a cereal box into the cupboard. 'I just don't get all stressed about it like Alec does, because he's a grumpy, old man.' 

'I just want him to have a life, you know?' She said, reaching up to Simon’s hair, running her fingers through it. 'He's so…'

'Grumpy,' Simon muttered, and Izzy grinned.

' _ Reserved _ ,’ she said, and Simon grabbed a chocolate bar from the counter, leaning against the wall. 'He's scared to take chances. He's scared to get what he wants.'

'Getting what you want  _ is  _ pretty scary, Iz,' Simon said, smiling something lopsided as he did so. 'This apartment was a real doozy.'

Izzy laughed, but sobered up quickly with a hand on her hip. 'I don't think he wants to worry me with anything. Alec has always kept his secrets to himself, but it wears on him. I might call Jace or Maia, see if they can talk some sense into him.'

'I'll talk to him!' Simon shouted, voice loaded with enthusiasm. He pushed himself forward from the counter and practically bounced in excitement. 'We'll get coffee and talk about our feelings.' 

'Oh, don't worry about that—I'm sending you in, last resort,' Izzy said, and laughed at the little offended noises Simon made as he shuffled out of the room.

 

* * *

 

' _ Jace,'  _ Alec muttered, his phone to his ear as he paced around the stage, his other hand clenching and unclenching at his side. He kept his voice quiet, a secret for one, remembering the confident way Magnus had sauntered toward the exit, like he was waiting for Alec to do… _ something. _

He remembered the way Magnus' shirt spread across his shoulders, the way it matched the coloured streaks in his hair, the way he stood, so sure of himself, yet remaining a mystery. He remembered the way they sat together and how the words started spilling from his mouth, miniscule thoughts and worries he never would've discussed with anyone, let alone a near-stranger. Magnus seemed to be an unexpectedly calming presence; he didn't poke or pry, and had a million different ways to fill silence.

He was  _ nice _ —it was the first thing Alec noticed. Despite the rumours that seemed to spread, or the way Maryse spoke of him with a slight sneer, Magnus Bane was nicer than most of the other people Alec had met.

He was a confusing man, of course; that seemed to be part of his charm. He left Alec dizzy, with a million questions on his mind, and it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

'Hey, man,' Jace began, and Alec was pulled out of his thoughts. 'It's good to hear from you, since there's been near radio silence for, I dunno,  _ weeks _ —'

'Jace, just…' Alec looked around, scanning the empty room, a subconscious thing. 'I need some, uh… _ advice _ .'

Jace paused for a moment. The only way Alec knew he hadn't hung up was from his gentle breathing in the background. 'Advice.'

'That's what I said,’ Alec grumbled, and instantly began to regret the phone call. 

' _You_ want advice, from _me_.' Jace sounded near ecstatic as he leaned away from the phone, voice growing distant. 'Maia!'

'Yeah?' 

'Alec's asking me for advice!' 

'Holy shit!' Maia was closer, now, and the two began to chatter with mock-excitement between themselves.

'Jace, c'mon, shut up. This is serious,' Alec muttered with annoyance, just as Jace began to tell Maia about the time Alec drank one too many beers at one of Simon’s old gigs and threw up on a cute guy’s shoes.

'Oh, it's serious, too,' Jace whispered, while Maia tried and failed to muffle her laugh.

'I better leave you to it, then,' she teased, and Alec could imagine her hands pressed into Jace’s shoulders, smirking into his hair. 'Hi, Alec.'

'Hey, Maia,' he said, and listened to her walk away, footfalls growing lighter until they disappeared. 

Jace focused his attention back on the conversation at hand, even if he wasn’t taking it seriously in the slightest, all amused tones and barely-there laughs. 'I'm really honoured that you turned to me, man. I mean, I've always been wiser than you, so—'

'Jace.’

'—It's really no wonder that you called me up—'

' _ Jace _ .'

'I'll have to call Iz and Aline later, let them in on the news—'

'How do you tell if somebody's, uh, flirting? With you?' Alec blurted out, sudden and shaky and not at all as confident as he hoped.

Jace was silent for an almost comical period of time. When he did speak, he sounded giddy with excitement, like he couldn’t contain himself. 'Dude, no  _ way _ .'

'Yeah, it's so unbelievable, right?' Alec muttered, and moved to end the call.

'Just— Just give me a minute, here.' Jace laughed, almost in disbelief. 'How did it happen?  _ When  _ did it happen?'

'I came here for advice, not to tell you a story.'

'Lemme just wrap my head around this—'

'You're useless,' Alec groaned, and hung up. 

He stood there for a moment in contemplation, and was moving to dial Simon’s number when he heard the trademark creak of a door, the gentle sound of wind, and saw a shard of light breaking through. 

The foyer doors opened and closed, and Alec jumped down from the stage, grabbing his bag from the corner of a chair as he moved. 

Alec knew, in a way, who was waiting for him—the unique way heels clicked against tiles was as telling as anything—but then he shuffled to a stop, his bag thrown over his shoulder, in front of Maryse. 

He smiled, something almost genuine. He tucked his phone into his bag and fiddled with the metal hook of the strap. 'Mother, hello.'

'Alec, thank god you're here,' she sighed, relieved, but was already moving down the hall toward her office, twirling her keys in her hand. 'Come with me for a moment.'

And Alec went with her, following on her tail, because of course he did. All he wanted was to curl up on his couch and forget about all of his obligations, but alas.

Maryse tipped her head to watch Alec from the corner of her eye, and smiled, almost with approval—and wouldn't that be something, to only approve of her son's actions when they helped her the most.  'We have no other productions running for the next few months, so I'd like you to help me with some balance sheets before we close.'

Ah, the inevitability of it all; of Maryse asking things of Alec which he, for the life of him, couldn't achieve.

'I don't…I don't do that stuff,' Alec muttered, like a secret he was forced to share, and he knew that he should've ended it there. He should've taken whatever argument Maryse was going to throw at him, and yet— 'You could, um, call dad. He might be able to, uh…’ 

And the sentence drifted off, forgotten, because the regret in his voice weighed down on his back like a tangible thing. Maryse’s back straightened, almost on reflex, like the mere mention of Robert Lightwood was enough to break down her walls. Her eyes danced along the bare floor, searching them for a response, and her hands twitched with either anger or fear. 

Her voice was quiet, and controlled, like she was trained for apathy. 'I'm not calling your father.'

Her jaw clenched as she turned to look at Alec, pleading, holding back all the words she could’ve said. Alec fumbled with the sleeves of his sweater. 'Yeah. Yeah, I know.'

Maryse watched him for a moment, regarding him, before letting out a small, deprecating laugh. It served as a lapse in control and she threw up an arm to show it. 'Besides, he may still  _ technically  _ be a part of this company, but he forfeited his right to contribute to us years ago.'

She braced her arms against the desk, pursing her lips, a silent announcement that the conversation was over. 

Part of Alec wanted to speak, wanted to apologise, because he felt the crippling need. But then he saw that look in Maryse’s eyes, like she was reliving too many memories she’d chosen to forget, and felt that his words weren’t needed.

He moved slowly toward the door, his voice quiet, and he remembered late-night conversations from younger years, his Mother’s voice watery with mourning. 'Call me if there's anything I can actually help with.'

 

* * *

 

Ragnor and Dot appeared at Magnus' door that evening, noisy as they tramped up the stairs, dressed in clothes just a little too formal for a casual stay-in evening. Magnus barely had the door open before the two came barging in, and Ragnor was waving a thick wad of paper in the air, his smile blistering, accompanied by Dot’s laugh.

'I planned on having a nice, quiet evening, you know,' Magnus sighed, but he smiled as he said it. Opening a nice bottle of wine and deciding how best to woo Alec Lightwood into a date or two was an occasion that would have to wait. 

'Magnus, we're celebrating,' Dot grinned, happy and exasperated, running her hands up and down Magnus’ arms. 'Don't be a spoilsport.'

'What exactly are we celebrating?' Magnus asked. 'There are very important matters I have to attend to.'

'And very pretty boys to pine for, hmm?' Dot hummed, and Magnus grinned, quickly wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a hug.

Ragnor watched them, rolling his eyes as they pulled away. He dropped the booklet he brought into Magnus' hands, and Dot walked around Magnus to see over his shoulder. 'Take a look.'

Magnus skimmed through it for a moment, flipping through the pages, recognizing certain lines he'd helped with over the last few months that slotted in perfectly with Ragnor's style; the man didn't call himself a writer for nothing, and this project of his was something he'd been desperate to start. Magnus had seen it in the early days, when it was briefly a concept. It was longer, now. There were more pages, less gaps, with directions and reminders done in bold. He flipped to the final page, eyed the last line.

'This— Is this…' Magnus looked up at Ragnor with a lopsided grin. 'It's finished?'

Ragnor hummed. 'The entire first draft. It’s full of typos and continuity errors, but that’s nothing a good editor can't fix.'

Magnus ran a thumb over the front page before pressing it back into Ragnor’s hands, smiling up at him. 'Where to?'

Dot grinned. 'The Hunter's Moon, obviously.'

'I better get ready, then,' Magnus said, winking as he turned and disappeared into his bedroom, throwing open his wardrobe. 

'While we're young, my friend!' Ragnor called out as the door clicked shut, and laughed at the string of muffled curses Magnus let out when he reappeared twenty minutes later, tripping over his shoes and the loose scarf that trailed down his back.

 

* * *

 

They’d reached the Hunter’s Moon under the sun, not quite setting, and the night was theirs; a few cocktails later, and everyone was the right kind of tipsy. Each smile felt more genuine, each laugh more joyful. The air was heavy with liquor and cologne, conversations overlapping between tables, and Magnus realized how much he'd missed this unapologetic joy, the freedom of being with friends and enjoying it like nothing else. He'd missed the casual way Brooklyn seemed to move, swallowing time slowly, carefully, savouring it. He'd missed the friendly smiles and meaningful glances from people who didn't know him, but thought they'd like to. There was a calming quality to the way everything existed in harmony.

They'd fallen back onto the topic of Ragnor's play— _ musical _ , apparently, with choreography and sheet music to show for it. He'd never told Magnus about this aspect; plays were difficult, and musicals ever more so. 

He kept giving Magnus these looks, too; one eyebrow raised, as if in question, and Magnus knew what he was asking. He'd heard Magnus sing once or twice—in the shower, of all places, and Ragnor reminded him on a weekly basis that, if needed, Magnus would be the man for the job.

Magnus always shrugged off his propositions with a smile; if he'd wanted to get into the musical business he would have, but that seemed like another headache for another time. The prospect of getting a voice coach was a terrifying one, as was the prospect of needing one, and he would never have dreamt of projecting his voice to a crowd of hundreds.

And of course, Camille never wanted her career to go in that direction, so that was a bigger factor than any.

But apparently, Ragnor was really looking forward to stirring trouble, because then— 

'How many lead characters in same-sex relationships have you encountered in theatre, my friend?' Ragnor began.

Magnus eyed him suspiciously, holding his drink at his lips. 'One, maybe two. Why?'

Dot was smirking behind her hand, and Ragnor slid the script back up onto the table, tapping the front cover gently, like a proposition. 'I was thinking, perhaps—'

'No.' Magnus spoke swiftly and to-the-point, emptying his glass. 'You won't be picked up.'

Ragnor leaned forward on the table. 'If a company refuses to fund a play solely based on the sexualities of the characters, isn't that a little telling?'

'They'll blame it on the story, or the budget,' Magnis said. 'They don't want us unless we're used as a gag. Nevermind the characters, they’ll find a hundred ways to keep a bisexual asian man from getting a role, or letting me keep it.’

Magnus leaned forward, hand clasped around the corner of the table. ‘Tell me—how many productions have you seen where a same-sex couple gets a happy ending? Or where the  _ possibility  _ of loving the same gender isn't laughed at? Where young audiences aren't left picking at scraps of representation, like that's all they deserve?'

'What if we're the first to bring something impactful to the table?' Ragnor says, small and hopeful, his glass discarded on the side. 'Change won't happen if nobody prompts it. We know enough creative minds to pull this off.'

'What about the cast?' Magnus said, and it wasn’t a surrender, but it was  _ something _ . 

'Open casting call, no inside jobs. They'll know the details when they step into the room,' Ragnor said, and slowly lifted a hand, gesturing to Magnus with an open palm and a hopeful smirk. 'And then, of course, I have you.'

At that, Magnus whined quietly, deflating on the table with a shake of his head. 'Ragnor, I—'

'Don't do that,' Ragnor cut in, sudden and loud and cautious.

Magnus lifted his head, a gentle movement. 'What?'

'Don't jump down the self-deprecating rabbit hole,' he said, a softness to his voice, but it sounded much like a warning. 'You're a singer and a dancer as well as an actor, Magnus. It's time the world knew.'

Any tension in the air seemed to dissolve as the night went on, after that. Magnus took Ragnor's words with a pinch of salt, as usual, because Ragnor loved pushing Magnus toward the impossible without any doubt that he could accomplish it.

Ragnor always told people that he was the one to get Magnus to audition for his first role, and that was usually followed by Catarina elbowing him in the ribs. Quite rightfully so, too; Ragnor couldn’t get through to Magnus on any front, back in those early days, but Magnus had his mind made up and his determination restored after an hour with Catarina, and a half glass of wine.

As the night moved on, golden light turning to dark blue and sparkling black, people came and left. Certain corners of the bar were bustling, while others stayed empty; everyone seemed to know their place. 

The front door always momentarily caught Ragnor's attention as it opened, his movements slow as he accepted another cocktail. This time, however, something caught his eye, and he followed it with developing intrigue, eyes gliding up and down with the slightest furrowed brow.

'Magnus,' he said, his voice low. 'Take a look at the bar, will you?'

Magnus did as told; swivelling around in his chair, he was met by a small line of people leaning over the bar counter. Only one was sitting down, chatting quietly with Maia, who passed them a drink with a smile. 

Alec was there, sitting and talking and smiling something brilliantly soft, and Magnus must've been staring for a considerably long time, because then Dot was prying the empty glass from his hands with gentle fingers.

'Go,' she said, and smiled, but for a moment, Magnus looked wary. She reached for his hand and patted it gently, daring a glance in Alec’s direction. 'Go. Be his company. Let him be yours.'

She noted Alec’s worn expression, his hunched shoulders, eyes drifting over the countertop once Maia looked away. 'Maybe something good will come of it.'

Magnus nodded, more to himself than anything, and rose from the table. Time seemed to slow as he moved across the bar, as he sank into a stool to Alec's right, one foot pulled up onto the bars.

Alec didn't seem to acknowledge him, first; he was drawing on a napkin, a collection of lines forming whiskey bottles and an open door, transferring from dark to light and back again. He made a small noise of frustration, holding the pen to his lips, his free hand drumming fingers against mahogany.

For a split second, there and gone, Magnus wanted to reach over; take Alec's hand, lean into his space. 

Maia came back over, glancing between the two of them with a developing smirk and seemingly connecting the dots. 

'Another martini?' She said, already reaching for a glass.

Magnus smiled fondly at her. 'Thank you, dear.'

Alec’s haze seemed to break, then, and he jolted slightly against the counter. Whipping his head around, his eyes darted between the golden streaks of Magnus’ hair and the rhinestones spread across the fabric of his jacket. 

Magnus suppressed a smile as their eyes locked. A blush crept up Alec’s neck and he exhaled like he was breathless. 'Hey, Magnus.'

Magnus settled his drink onto the counter, running a finger along the lip of the glass, delicate in his movements, sure to make Alec notice. 'Good evening, Alexander.'

Alec froze momentarily, mouth hanging slightly open, and he started messing with the pen in his hand. 'What are, uh, what are you doing here?'

'Drinking,' Magnus said, and flashed a smile. 'Talking to you, currently. '

Alec’s lips quirked, something happy and confused. ‘Y’know, you can get back to whatever you were doing. You don’t have to stay.'

'Oh, believe me—you're much more interesting than any conversation I was just having about scriptwriting,' Magnus said, gesturing vaguely back to the table where Ragnor and Dat sat with his drink, swirling it in his hand. 'It seems the work can never really leave me behind.'

Alec hummed something sad, and spun his beer bottle in his hands. 'Yeah, I know the feeling.'

'How so?' 

‘I met with my mother today. Things were kind of…’ Alec made a small, careless gesture, his face pinched with regret. ‘I just— I brought up something I shouldn’t have, and now…I dunno. I feel like I’ve disappointed her. I should’ve known better.’  

For a moment, Magnus watched Alec, taking in the way he spoke, the way he held himself. It was so different from the man Magnus had met that one night a few weeks ago—any semblance of confidence seemed to disappear in the place of work. His voice was soft and careful, and he seemed to be curling in on himself over the counter.  

'Well then,' Magnus said, with a slight nod of his head. 'It sound like you truly need some good company.'

'Magnus, I—' 

'Alexander,' Magnus smiled, his voice gentle, so sincere that Alec’s mouth snapped shut on principle. He leaned on the counter and let smothering yellow light bounce off his rings and reflect on the ceiling. 'You must have realized by now that all of my decisions are my own. I do things because  _ I  _ want to. And right now, I'm talking to you.'

And it took a moment, but Alec nodded gently, like he was convincing himself that Magnus wasn’t going to just up and leave. 

The night continued on with all the beauty that Magnus had expected; their discussions were quite trivial, but watching the way Alec opened up at the encouragement to speak did something foreign to Magnus' heart. His laugh was unique in itself; both loud and reserved, a secret and a protest. A large part of him remained closed off and calculated, but the parts of him that Magnus could see were delightfully intriguing.

The evening heat swirled around them, and people came and went. Music played like a lullaby in the background, low and soothing. It was almost as if a part of Magnus had come undone; he spoke with no filter, one story leading into the next, and Alec seemed enthralled. He leaned on the counter and migrated to cocktails halfway through the night, face pinching at the initial taste before mellowing out into something rather tranquil.

Negativity was discarded for anything and everything else, because this was the kind of night Magnus felt too precious to ruin. At some point they'd leaned closer, knees touching from where they were propped up on metal bars, and Magnus was too content to point it out.

Still, he promised to keep his distance, in both proximity and emotion. He didn't really  _ know  _ Alec, not yet. 

A clock ticked, and glasses knocked against each other with a satisfying clink. A group of friends spoke in low, blissful tones in the corner furthest from them both. Magnus wasn't drunk in any sense of the word, but the way evening had gracefully lulled into night made his thoughts clouded, his movements languid, and frequently had him drawing up blanks.

'Are you an artist?' Magnus asked, unprompted and hidden in the night. He watched the last few customers trail out of the bar in questionable states of sobriety, and spoke as if scared for them to hear. 'I saw you drawing earlier, and assumed.'

'Oh, uh, no,' Alec said, voice quiet as he fumbled in his pocket, producing the napkin and pen from earlier, messily rolled up. He dropped them down in front of Magnus, and if he let his hands linger for just a moment, he certainly didn't let it be known. 'I just draw, sometimes. It's nothing.'

'You don't need a level of prestige to give yourself a title, you know. And this is excellent.' Magnus thumbed over each curving line, Alec’s messy signature in the corner. He wasn't exactly an expert, but he could see good work when it was there. 'Are you a landscapes kind of man?' 

'Depends on the day,' Alec said. 'I used to be one of those people who just sat in Bridge Park and sketched everyone that walked past. I thought it was…I dunno, elegant.'

He smiled a little, and his eyes lit up with something new, something bright. 'I can show you more, someday, more drawings. I have dozens of sketchbooks back home.'

'I'd like that,' Magnus said, pouring in every ounce of sincerity he possessed, and tucked the napkin into his jacket pocket, noticing the blush that crept up Alec’s neck as he did so. 

He looked back at the clock, for a moment, and noticed Maia's movements slowing; she took just a little longer to clean each glass and lock each cabinet, always keeping Alec and Magnus in the corner of her eye.

Magnus stood up slowly, flattening out the lapels of his jacket. 'However, it's getting quite late, so I think we should call it a night, don’t you.'

'Yeah,’ Alec mumbled, a small disappointed sigh. He shrugged on his jacket as Magnus slid a twenty across the counter to Maia with an appreciative nod. She grinned up at him and he winked before stepping outside, engulfed in dark light, breath foggy from the slight chill. 

Alec trailed out behind him, fiddling with the hem of his jacket, shoes sliding across stone, and that cautious disposition of his had obviously set back in. The safety of the bar had disappeared, and Magnus imagined it felt much like a wakeup call.

They came to stand on the pavement, facing each other, figuring out the correct words to say as the moon stood strong above the skyline. Without the constantly flowing conversation, the world was deathly quiet.

'Magnus—thank you,’ Alec began, murmuring softly, hands moving to clasp behind his back. 'For the drinks, and the company, and…'

Magnus smiled, head tipped down but eyes still shining at the boy merely a few steps away. 'You're welcome, Alec.' 

Silence stretched out between them, and Magnus cherished the moment. He would’ve gladly waited in the dark until Alec found his voice again; it was an easy way to memorise his smile and his eyes and the way he fidgeted. 

But then Alec nodded, almost to himself, and spun around on his heels.

And Magnus stepped after him, sudden and without grace, cycling through feelings of surprise and worry and  _ need  _ within seconds. 

'Can I walk you home?' He said, quick and breathless, swaying slightly where he stood. 

And maybe there was something in the air that made him feel a diluted kind of fear, the kind he’d tried and failed to drown out with liquor and a smile. Maybe it was the way he wished to reach out, grasp Alec’s hands in his own. He imagined them warm, and safe; a little rough around the edges, but still as delicate as ever.

Alec paused, and spun around. He gave Magnus a lopsided smile before approaching, timid and unsure, slotting himself in at Magnus’ side. 'Sure.'

Something giddy burned in Magnus’ stomach as they walked, overtaken by the silence. Around them, the air was filled with muffled laughter and scuffling shoes and the sound of breaking bottles, noise coming from unknown people down insignificant streets.

Magnus glanced at Alec, whose head was tipped toward the sky, watching the stars on a rarely clear night. He saw a happy man, in that moment, and Magnus wondered if that occasion was rare. 

A silly part of Magnus wanted to give Alec all the happiness he could afford, in the form of nightclubs and improv groups and movie nights huddled under woollen blankets, but he snuffed the flame and stifled the thought.

'Magnus?' Alec said, the words barely there, but Magnus hummed with acknowledgement. 'Why  _ did  _ you come to the Institute, last week? You said I should know, but, I just…I'm coming up blank.'

Magnus smiled softly at the pavement. 'Maybe I wanted to thank the nice man who complimented me on an otherwise terrible night.'

'What was so terrible about it?' Alec asked, but pulled a face. 'Apart from, uh—'

'Apart from sitting in the audience of a play I'd worked tirelessly on for weeks?' Magnus said, accompanied by a laugh with no trace of humour. 'Do you know Camille Belcourt?'

'Of course.'

'She has a habit of…messing with people. Getting under their skin. That night was no different.' He paused, pursing his lips. 'As dramatic as it sounds, I think she wants to ruin my career. So far, it seems that she's succeeding.'

Alec furrowed his brow. 'But…the two of you, you were…'

'Two halves of the same soul?' Magnus said, mocking an article written about them from years past like he always used to, and it felt like a cruel reminder of her absence. 'I would've agreed last year, even a few months ago. Now that I'm free of her…it's liberating, if not a little terrifying.'

Alec paused, and clenched his jaw for a moment, slowing his pace. And then— 

'I think you're still letting her control you.' He threw his arms out, almost with annoyance, and Magnus smiled gently at how much he seemed to  _ care,  _ even if fear bubbled in his gut and made him feel quite hollow. 'If you don't put yourself out there, nothing will ever change.'

'These things are harder than you might think, Alexander.'

'Not with the connections you must have,’ he said, sounding surprisingly defiant. It was different from his seemingly calm disposition, and it was a welcome change. ‘Somebody, somewhere, needs an actor like you. Even if it isn't the Institute, or Brooklyn, or the whole of New York.'

Magnus shrugged his shoulders. 'There are many actors just like me.'

'Don't be so sure.'

He looked up at Alec, then, all wide eyes and skin bitten by the cold. Each of Alec’s movements was a little less tense, a little more open, and Magnus wondered if this was how it felt to begin to break down somebody’s walls.

'This is me,' Alec said, rather suddenly, and they slowed to a stop outside a tall red-brick building. Light from the windows a few storeys up illuminated them both, and Magnus saw Alec pulling on the hem of his jacket, a nervous gesture. 'Thank you, again, for—'

'No need to thank me,’ Magnus said, grinning as he clasped his hands behind his back and bowed forward slightly. 'Thank  _ you,  _ for a lovely night.'

'Yeah, um…' Alec bounced on his feels for a moment, looking away in thought. He smiled gently, a lopsided grin, and turned up a hand in question. 'Do you, uh…Do you have a phone, maybe?'

Magnus pressed his lips together to hide a smile. 'Of course.'

'Can I, uh, see it?'

Magnus took out his phone, pressing it into Alec’s hand. He waited a moment before pulling away, and swore he could feel the blood flowing through his veins like fizzing champagne.

He watched with a quizzical look as Alec fumbled with the phone, and soon enough he was handing it back, dropping it into Magnus’ palm like it burned. He pointed at it before reaching up and scratching the nape of his neck. 'And now you, uh…have my number.'

'Oh?' Magnus teased, slowly taking a step forward, gaze shifting between Alec’s eyes and his lips, with the phone still held between them.

'For work, and stuff,’ Alec murmured, eyes trailing over Magnus’ face. ‘In case you ever need anything.’

'For work,’ Magnus repeated, voice soft.

'Yeah.' 

'Great.' And for a moment, the distance between their bodies felt like nothing at all. Electricity hummed under Magnus’ skin, and he held Alec’s stare, tucking the phone into his pocket without looking down. 'I'm looking forward to seeing your artwork, by the way. I'll be holding you to it.'

Alec laughed, light and mischievous, and Magnus felt his stomach flip. 'Yeah, I'm counting on it.'

Magnus stepped back, a small and graceful thing, even with his insides in knots and his mind spiralling with thoughts and questions and  _ what ifs _ . 

Alec, completely flustered, had given Magnus his phone number. It provided Magnus a kind of happiness that seemed to be previously unknown; the kind that made the colour of the night sky a little deeper, and made the foggy stars shine like shards of light. 

Magnus would wait for Alec; he’d let Alec figure it all out, if he wanted anything at all. They’d fill the space between with casual bar meetups and cold breath skimming over skin under moonlight, everything too experimental and too curious. He’d wait until a phone number, such a small gesture, meant something extraordinary.

The two locked eyes, trying and failing to be serious with the slight upturn of lips. 'Goodnight, Alexander.'

'Night, Magnus,’ Alec said, like a secret, fumbling with his keys and disappearing behind the lobby door.

Magnus stood on the sidewalk until he felt as if he was going to melt into it, grinning like a fool, and only then did he wonder how on earth he planned to get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come chat on tumblr!! [@dandymot](http://dandymot.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aka: coffee dates, sketches, and audition notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been over a month since the last update and i am Ashamed - my excuses for this are:  
> a) school, and  
> b) the twenty different wips i'm currently writing.
> 
> however, this is a preeeetty good chapter if i do say so myself, so i hope you enjoy it!!

 

[09:57] _good morning, alexander._

 

The text came in early in the morning, the sky still pale pink and fresh, the number unknown. Alec’s phone buzzed against the worn wood of his bedside table and he groaned into his pillow as he reached for it, joints aching, each movement more trouble than it was worth. Still, after reading the message, Alec didn’t have to think twice before knowing who it was.

It’d been three days. Three days since Alec and Magnus had spent the night at the Hunter’s Moon, since they’d stood together on the pavement under lamplight with mere inches of space between them.

Alec’s blood had thrummed in his veins as they walked, as he gave Magnus his number, which was more bold hearted courage than anything. The look of intrigue and happiness Magnus wore was enough to make all the fear of rejection worth it; his gentle smile enough to calm the chaos of a storm.

He woke up the next day with a headache that made his legs weak and his eyes burn, but he figured that he didn’t really mind. For some reason, even as he woke to an expectedly empty bed, he didn’t feel all that alone.

Magnus hadn’t texted him, and he hadn’t been worried, no; a little suspicious, maybe. He’d heard the talk from Izzy and Jace over the years of making people wait for things, playing hard to get, and he considered it rather silly.

He understood it, now. The way he hadn’t seen Magnus in a few days just made Alec want to see him even more, want him _close,_ want him _here_ _._

He turned over and pulled the comforter up around him, scowling at the too-bright light from the screen.

 

[9:59] _You’re one of those early risers._

_Fantastic._

 

A bright shard of light broke through the gap in Alec’s curtains, then, and he sunk further down into the mattress with a whine; his phone buzzed again.

 

[10:01] _as much as i enjoy pillow talk, i much prefer to seize the day._

_speaking of, what are your plans? :)_

 

Alec pushed himself up and out of bed, arms heavy as he exited the room and moved through to the kitchen. His memory lingered on the words _pillow talk,_ the way he could imagine Magnus’ smile from behind the phone.

 

[10:03] _I’m not doing much, actually._

 

He paused, thoughts wavering somewhere between what was safe and what was satisfying.

 

[10:03] _Do you have something in mind?_

 

And it was sent, then; so forward, so _unlike_ Alec’s usual reserved disposition that he willed to take it back, dropping his head forward to knock against a cabinet door.

By the time Magnus replied, Alec had collapsed down onto the cold leather sofa, a mug of coffee burning in his lazy hands.

 

[10:16] _i’m afraid i’ve been roped into another lunch date with the four biggest gossipers in brooklyn. i’m free tomorrow?_

 

And Alec smiled to himself—grinned, really, wide and unabashed, and it felt so ridiculous to talk to Magnus with such fluidity. All awkwardness was discarded, and somehow, Magnus felt like more than a near-stranger, more than somebody Alec barely knew.

 

[10:19] _Yeah, that works for me._

 

[10:20] _i’ll text you later to figure out the when and where._

_have a good day, alexander. x_

 

[10:21] _You too, Magnus. :)_

 

And if Alec looked over the conversation again and again just to prove it actually happened, nobody really had to know.

 

* * *

 

They were at the Institute, but they didn’t have to be. They could’ve been lying on soft velour couches and drinking tea, but Alec had turned down the offer to go to Magnus’ loft with the smallest shake of his head. It felt like too much, too soon, as if they’d been friends for decades and this was all a normal occurrence.

They needed to invest in a few chairs, or a rug. Maybe some memory-foam mattresses, bought under the radar, because the two of them had taken to lying on the floor, side by side; Magnus, with an arm tucked under his head, and Alec on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling lights above.

Magnus had brought a blanket, too; it was bulky and navy and soft to touch. It was a small gesture, one that Alec didn’t feel he deserved, and he felt his heart stutter to a halt when he walked in and found Magnus with it wrapped around his shoulders.

He didn’t look at Magnus a lot, that day; he didn’t look at his slightly tousled hair, or his loose-fitting clothes, or the hand that lay like a dead weight between them, just close enough to reach for without any effort. If Magnus pressed his palm down flat and stretched his fingers against the stage, they’d brush against both his and Alec’s ribs.

Alec hated the way the idea stuck in his head like it was something he needed to keep his heart beating. He hated the way he could only ignore it by focusing on Magnus’ breathing, watching the gentle rise and fall of Magnus’ chest from the corner of his eye.

They’d been sitting in silence for an awfully long time, but it felt wrong to disturb the peace they’d created. It was such a nice kind of quiet, where neither felt obliged to fill it.

But when Magnus did speak—minutes could’ve passed, maybe even hours—his voice was quiet, careful. ‘I never did tell you about my friends, did I? I mentioned them briefly.’

Alec shook his head, and Magnus let out a breathy laugh. ‘I’ve known them for as long as I can remember. Everything that I’ve been through, they’ve been right there with me.’

He shuffled around on the blanket until he was turned toward Alec, laying on his arm, eyes trailing up and down Alec’s features.

‘We’re quite bizarre, really,’ he continued. ‘You know of Ragnor already. He has always been a writer, and he has always been there when I’ve muffed things up. Catarina’s smart, and wise, and caring. She studied to be a nurse, so she’s the most sensible out of the lot of us, and has always pushed me just enough to put me back on track.’

Magnus smiled a little, nostalgia pulling at his lips. ‘Dot and Raphael were in college at the same time as me. Dot is…she’s so lovely, Alec. So smart and hopeful, so full of life, it’s like it could burst out of her. She puts up with me when I’m reckless and stays with me to see the consequences.’

‘And Raphael?’ Alec inquired, and he was looking at Magnus, now. He watched Magnus’ face brighten, kind words spilling like he couldn’t stop.

He sighed, but there was something fond in it. ‘Raphael has been through a lot. Some think it’s left him cold, but underneath it all, he’s just as caring as everyone else. He protects us, and always puts us first, even if he shouldn’t.’

Alec paused for a moment. ‘And you?’

‘Hmm?’ Magnus hummed, closing his eyes, and twirled the rings on his fingers absentmindedly.

‘What makes you special?’

Magnus tilted his head in thought, and his laugh was gentle, if not a little sad. ‘I don’t really…know. Is that strange?’

‘No,’ Alec murmured, and he stayed quiet about the million things he could list off from memory alone, ‘it’s not strange. I don’t know what’s special about me, either.’

Magnus opened his eyes, then, and studied Alec for a moment. He smiled something bright and hopeful. ‘I guess that’s something we can work on.’

Alec laughed, and looked back up at the ceiling. ‘Yeah.’

It was the most comfortable silence Alec had experienced in months.

 

* * *

 

‘All productions need a director, correct?’

Magnus groaned in exasperation as he flopped down onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the ottoman. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Ragnor, it’s one in the morning—’

‘And you’re not asleep yet, so I’m not disturbing you,’ Ragnor grinned, voice a little smug. ‘A musical needs a director. Yes?’

Magnus made a noise at the back of his throat, something low and mock-annoyed. ‘I suppose so.’

‘And we know a few of those.’ He paused for dramatic effect, because _of course_ he did. ‘One of them being Luke Garroway.’

‘You recruited _Luke_ in your mad crusade?’

‘He knows a good idea when he sees it, my friend,’ Ragnor hummed, satisfied, ‘as should you.’

Magnus pursed his lips, taking a moment to think. He perked up a little when a realization came to him, but the same dread settled in his stomach as always.

‘You called to try and convince me to audition again, didn’t you?’

‘We’re having talks at the minute,’ Ragnor said, a little giddy and a little pleading. ‘Everything’s being sorted—budgets and quotas and deadlines. We have a few choreographers in the mix as well as vocal coaches, we’ve already got ideas for assistant directors if Luke wants one, we have _sponsors_ and—’

‘Ragnor, dear, slow down,’ Magnus laughed. ‘We last spoke about this mere weeks ago and you’ve made this much progress?’

‘This has been in the works for a while, my friend,’ Ragnor said, voice light with excitement. ‘Think about it—we have this much support, and this is all under the public radar.’

Magnus pauses, and thinks; it’s not an agreement, but it’s enough of a pause to give Ragnor a little bit of hope. ‘When exactly are you thinking of going public with the audition notices?’

‘In a month, at most.’

‘And the script changes?’

Ragnor was silent for a moment; Magnus furrowed his brow with a little bit of anticipation. ‘In discussion. Some people support the idea, some don’t, but at the end of the day, it’s _our_ story.’

And Magnus had promised himself he wouldn’t consider this, promised that he wouldn’t take hope and chance and run with them. He’d made the promise with Camille on his mind and a drink in his hand, and those were the kinds of promises you keep, the ones that had the potential to break a heart all over again.

But some small, tiny part of Magnus simply didn’t _care_ about broken-hearted grief anymore.

‘I’m not saying yes, but—’ He heard Ragnor’s breath catch across the phone and smiled through the fear pushing at his lungs—‘I’ll think about it.’

There was a pause before Ragnor cheered, voice loud and distorted over the phone. Once he calmed himself down, he sounded a lot more in his element; casual and collected, always aware of what needed to be done. ‘I’m coming over tomorrow to give you an extract from the script. I’ll have you know that I was going to give it to you whether you wanted it or not.’

Magnus scoffed. ‘You’re nothing more than a nuisance.’

‘You love me, really,’ Ragnor said, and Magnus could hear him smile. ‘I’ll be over at ten.’     

 

* * *

 

Magnus was buying them coffee in some cute little place they’d found, tucked in between two highrises with pristine glass windows and endless shadows, and Alec swore his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest.

This wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. Alec was very, _very_ into communication, and neither of them had mentioned anything formal. They were just going for a walk, and Magnus was buying them coffee because he wanted to.

And sure, Alec felt incredibly outmatched; Magnus seemed to know every street and alley in the city, and everywhere they went, he seemed to be recognised. An acknowledging nod or excited smile was never spared, but for the first time, Alec didn’t feel as if he was living in anyone’s shadow. Magnus seemed… _interested_ in him, in the way Alec spoke and what he said. It was a strange thing to realize.

This change of scenery felt welcome; they had spent weeks at the Institute with nothing but blankets and conversation. Being together as friends was something new, something welcome and exciting.

(Calling Magnus a friend still felt experimental. They hadn’t really talked about that, either. It had just…happened. One day, strangers; the next, something more.)

Magnus was chatting idly with the man behind the counter, elbows resting on granite, his eyes bright as he laughed softly. The man seemed magnetized, his smile gentle and his voice filled with wonder, and Alec wondered if that’s the way he looked at Magnus, too.

Their conversation ended with Magnus taking their two drinks from the counter, winking at the man before he spun around and pressed a cup into Alec’s hand. Alec took it with a nod and a smile, and held the door open for Magnus on the way out.

‘Did you know that guy?’ Alec asked eventually, as they walked like they had all the time in the world, slow and languid.

Magnus ducked his head, smiling something gentle. ‘I met him at a New Year’s Eve party. He was sweet, and he gave me his jacket. Camille was there, though, so nothing came of it.’

He sipped his coffee and slowed to a stop, leaning against a tall metal fence, and Alec stood to his side.

‘He always draws love hearts on my orders—’ Magnus spun the cup in his hand and tapped a group of small hearts next to his name with his nail—‘which is adorable.’

Alec looked away for a moment before he spoke. ‘Do you think there’s anything…between you?’

‘Not anymore,’ Magnus said, and Alec pretended not to know exactly why he wanted to sigh with such relief. ‘When I was younger? Maybe. Now, he’s just a boy that I might’ve loved, once.’

Magnus looked up, meeting Alec’s eyes. ‘What about you? Any love stories?’

Alec let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. ‘I never really…dated much. It was easier to stay away from it all.’

‘And now, Alexander?’ He pushed himself away from the fence, standing directly in front of Alec with a smile like a challenge. ‘Are you ready to present yourself to the world?’

Alec ducked his head, grinning, and looked up at Magnus through his lashes. ‘I’m working on it.’

 

* * *

 

Aline watched Alec from where he was curled up on the sofa, legs pulled up against his chest. He was drumming his fingers against the glass he held in one hand, and was smiling at his phone in the other.

‘I know I’ve been doing the whole secretary thing to get some money,’ Izzy was saying, lying across the couch, her feet tucked under Simon’s thighs. ‘They’re really nice down at city college, really respectful of my situation, but I just…I dunno what I want.’

‘You wanted to be in forensics when you were younger, right?’ Alec said, and looked up from his phone for what seemed like the first time that night. Still smiling faintly, he put his glass down on the table. ‘And Mom hated it, because you’d dissect hearts and kidneys in school and you’d always come home with all the gory details. She could _actually_ imagine you doing it for a living.’

Izzy smiled. ‘When I was younger, I thought performing was the way to go. I was _so_ into it. I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else, but I kept a few backups in mind that were considered more…well, _normal_. There was forensic pathology, law, things like that.’

‘Did you ever think about going back to performing?’ Aline said, noticing that Alec’s phone had vibrated again and he his head was tipped back down into his lap.

‘A bit. Mom kind of ruined it for me, but it’s what I always wanted to do.’ Izzy shook her head, running a hand through her hair where it half-hung over the armrest. ‘I just need to sort myself out.’

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Simon said, fiddling with the hem of Izzy’s jeans. ‘If worst comes to worst, we can move back into my Mom’s basement.’

‘Oh, I bet Elaine will _love_ that,’ Izzy grinned.

‘It’ll be like a sleepover, except with actual sleeping. Less ghost stories. More Star Wars.’

‘What ones do we need to see, again?’

‘Revenge of The Sith, Return of The Jedi, and The Force Awakens.’ Simon looked over at Aline, who was shaking her head with mock-annoyance. ‘I’ve been showing her in the updated Ernst Rister order, which is basically where you watch Rogue One, episode four and episode five, and then you skip all the way to episode one— ’

‘Alec, control him, please,’ Aline groaned, dropping her head against the leather back of the armchair. ‘He’s not even speaking sense anymore.’

‘Just because you refuse to indulge in a Star Wars marathon, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be miserable!’ Simon said, throwing up his arms, and Izzy laughed near his side. ‘Tell her, Alec! We watched them together.’

And in the silence that followed, the three of them waited patiently for Alec’s input. Instead, however, his phone buzzed again; he laughed, loud and unguarded as his hand flew to his mouth.

‘Alec.’

‘Hmm?’ Aline’s voice brought Alec back to his senses and he pushed himself up on the couch, his eyes wide, phone still pressed tight against his palm. ‘Yeah? What?’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Uh…who?’ He muttered, looking around at all of them. Aline nodded toward the phone with a small grin, and he looked down at it as if he hadn’t realized it was there at all. ‘Oh! It’s just, uh…Jace.’

Simon shook his head, waving a hand. ‘That’s unrealistic—Jace can’t make anyone laugh.’

Alec rolled his eyes. ‘That’s rude.’

‘It’s true.’ He paused. ‘Except for Maia—but I think she’s too in love with him to realize that none of his jokes are all that funny.’

And in the hours following, the night went on as normal. At some point Aline migrated over to Alec’s side, where they talked and laughed in quietened tones; Izzy fell asleep on the couch, curled into Simon’s side.

Alec drove Aline home sometime around midnight, and Izzy woke up as the door clicked shut. She grumbled into Simon’s shoulder, and he laughed something fond.

‘Do you think Alec would hate me if I stole his phone? Did some sleuthing?’ He said, and Izzy gently shoved him.

‘We’re not invading his privacy, Si,’ She said, smiling up at him. ‘He’s allowed to have friends outside of all of us. He doesn’t need protecting all of the time.’

Simon sighed. ‘I know. I just wanna be there for him.’

Izzy knew how strange it was for Simon to be on the outside of a situation in Alec’s life, and both he and Izzy knew that Alec needed friends outside of the little family they’d created over the years. It was just strange to see him act secretive about meeting other people, as if it was wrong, as if they wouldn’t support him with everything they had.

All Izzy knew was that Alec pushed himself into things head first, as selfless as he was. Sometimes that selflessness backfired, and he pushed himself into other people’s realities, living almost vicariously through them. When that happened, there was usually little room for him to live, to _breathe_ , and things went from bad to worse.

She hoped that Alec was making friends, she really did. She just hoped that, in between it all, Alec was allowing himself to exist as his own person, instead of an unneeded appendage.

Izzy leaned up to kiss Simon’s cheek, before standing and pulling him off the couch. ‘He’ll talk about stuff when he’s ready.’

At least, she hoped so.

 

* * *

 

Alec heard the doors close with a thud but didn’t look up, pulling the chair in front of him a little closer, using it as a desk. He tore a page from his sketchbook with a small groan and crumpled it, tossing it somewhere behind him.

‘No need to take your anger out on me, Alec,’ Magnus said, but it was gentle, teasing; Alec looked up and smiled on reflex.

Magnus opened up the page and frowned. ‘Why did you tear this out?’

‘Nothing’s coming out right,’ Alec mumbled, and Magnus dropped down onto the blanket beside him with a small booklet in his arms. ‘Everything I draw is— it’s _fine,_ but it isn’t what I want it to be.’

‘Maybe you just need some inspiration,’ Magnus said, leaning the booklet on his thigh and flipping open the front cover.

‘Maybe,’ Alec said, and—‘What’s that?’

‘An excerpt from Ragnor’s script,’ Magnus said, and dragged a nail gently over the dog-eared corner of the page. ‘He’s been pestering me for weeks because he wants me to audition.’

Alec shifted closer to Magnus where he sat, straining only a little to concentrate on the words in front of him instead of the way he and Magnus were so, _so_ close. ‘Why don’t you?’

‘First and foremost, I don’t have the voice of an angel,’ Magnus said, and it sounded like such an easily accepted truth that Alec had no words for a moment. ‘I don’t really want critics jumping down my throat.’

Alec paused in thought, for a moment, and shook his head like an affirmation. He lifted his eyes to meet Magnus’ own. ‘I, uh— I bet you’re great.’

‘Thank you, Alec,’ Magnus murmured, watching Alec through his lashes, and there was something about his tone that made it seem as if he was shocked to hear Alec’s words. ‘But believe me—if I had the talent, I would’ve been doing musicals years ago. I’m afraid it’s too late, now.’

‘I mean, you shouldn’t limit yourself like that.’ Alec was quiet as he spoke, but grew louder, more confident—he knew the words he said were only as truthful as he made them. ‘Things change with time. I only get better at art because I practice it. Maybe you’ve changed, too.’

Magnus smiled something strange, and it brought a blush to his cheeks previously unknown; he looked to the ground for a moment, grin widening as he met Alec’s eyes. ‘Always so eloquent, Alexander.’

‘It’s the truth,’ Alec said, and shrugged like it was obvious.

The rest of the world fell to pieces outside of what Magnus had in his hands, and he reacted to it with widened eyes, breathy laughs, a furrowed brow. He looked completely and utterly in his element, in touch with the part of him that lived for creativity.

At some point, the two of them became lost in time, and Alec started sketching. There were small details scattered around the page—an eye, the curve of lips. He flew through the pages until he took each detail and put them together, focusing on some parts and completely forgetting about others.

After what felt like hours, Alec recognised Magnus staring back at him from the page, and noticed that he had no urge to burn the piece, to push away his creativity and surrender.

Alec drew him again, and again, and fixed the things he’d missed—the fading tips of Magnus’ hair, the cuff on his ear, the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the slight frown he wore in concentration. The way he held the pages, gentle, like he had unparalleled strength that could break hearts and destroy cities.

Alec sketched the same pair of eyes, the same jawline, over and over until it almost became muscle memory, as if Magnus was his habit.

‘It’s good. It’s really good,’ Magnus said, an hour or so after they’d originally gone silent. He met Alec’s eyes, and concealed a smile at the way the other boy was sitting cross-legged, biting at a pencil. ‘It’s just…I’m not sure how well the part I’ve been marked down for would be suited to me.’

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ Alec asked, wiggling the pencil between his fingers.

Magnus sighed. He looked down to the bottom of the room and rubbed his fingers together at his side. ‘It’s not the _role_ , exactly. There are certain things that will happen, changes that will be made once it’s been picked up. If I happen to get the part that I’m supposed to go for, I’m afraid I’ll be put in quite the line of fire.’

Alec made a small noise of confusion, and Magnus looked back at him with something akin to fear in his gaze. ‘Ragnor wants to change the sexualities of the two leads to try and open the door for more LGBT characters. He said we’ll be paving the way for something new, and I _know_ that. I know it’s important.’

‘It scares you to be acting out something that’s such a big part of who you are,’ he said, sudden with realization, and Magnus nodded.

‘People who didn’t know I was bi before will think the role influenced me. Others will say we’re pushing agendas,’ Magnus scoffed at that, running a hand across the booklet’s cover, ‘and I’ve encountered people in the past who would do anything in their power to get a production like this cancelled.’

He paused, pursing his lips. ‘I want Ragnor to make something well-renowned, and I want him to make something innovative. I just don’t think he can do both at the same time, not right now.’

‘Whether we like it or not, critics and reviewers make or break a show. With this being the first of it’s kind, we dunno how they’ll react,’ Alec said, his voice low, almost a stream of consciousness. ‘You don’t know what that reaction will be like because you have nothing to compare it to.’

Alec tilted his head to the side. ‘Does it scare you?’

‘Slightly.’ And Alec could see the way Magnus’ expression changed, cycling through fear and vulnerability, settling on something almost accepting.

‘I didn’t think you were scared of anything,’ Alec admitted, but he didn’t move. Their eyes were locked and his voice was a murmur, a secret.

‘We all have fears, Alexander.’ A small smile tugged on Magnus’ lips and he edged a little bit closer to Alec, head ducked, mischievous eyes gazing up through lashes. The silence rang out but Alec welcome it; he welcomed the way time froze around them, the way words weren’t needed but each one seemed to send a shiver down his spine.

But then a phone rang out, shrill and piercing, from Alec’s bag on the floor. He was snapped out of his mystic daydream as soon as he’d entered it and fumbled down off the stage, legs caught in the blanket, his sketchbook tumbling off his lap.

He stumbled when he grabbed his bag, rummaging through the pockets, and his eyes widened when he read the caller.

He looked back up at Magnus—who was watching him with a sort of amused grin, his hands clasped in his lap—and pointed at the phone. ‘I have to, uh, I should take this—’

Magnus nodded, waving a hand. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’  

Alec made his way down toward the end of the hall, taking in a deep breath before putting the phone to his ear.

‘Hey, Mom,’ he said, and hated the mix of anger and fear he was hiding.

‘Alec,’ Maryse breathed, almost relieved. ‘Are you available at four on Wednesday afternoon? Two days from now?’

He sighed, resting his forehead against the wooden door of the entrance, his free hand gripping the side. ‘Yeah, I am. Why?’

‘Your, um…’ She paused, and cleared her throat. ‘Your father is coming into town.’

And at that, Alec stood up a little straighter, glancing at Magnus, who was eyeing him with bewilderment. He ran a hand through his hair, and fumbled with his words for a moment. ‘Um, that’s, uh—Why?’

‘Just some things regarding the Institute,’ She said, and sighed. ‘He said he wanted to see you—Isabelle and Jace, too, but I can make an excuse. I know the three of you, um…’

‘We promised each other we wouldn’t speak to him again unless we had to,’ Alec said, and he remembered the conversation vividly, remembered feeling as if the world could never hurt them if they didn’t let it. ‘If I have to be around him, I will. That doesn’t mean we forgive him.’

‘Would you be able to pick him up from JFK?’ Maryse asked, and her voice was softer. As cold as she could be, she had her moments. ‘He has a room at the Box House.’

Alec rolled his eyes. ‘He can afford the Box House?’

‘He can, now that he’s stopped funding us,’ Maryse said, and her voice was lighter as she laughed, like she’d gotten something important off her chest.

Alec paused for a moment, and kept his voice low. ‘Do you want me to tell Jace and Izzy?’

‘I’ll leave that up to you. I trust you to make the right decision for them.’

_For them,_ she said, and Alec knew that his wellbeing didn’t mean that much, in Maryse’ mind; at least, it always felt that way. His decisions were for their benefit, because Jace and Izzy were children of success, and Alec was nothing of the sort. He had the responsibility of giving them the opportunities, and sitting back to watch them work and thrive.

Being with Magnus made him feel like all the things he’d missed were being handed back to him, in the form of soft voices and optimistic smiles. Magnus made Alec want to work towards something, towards _anything._

‘Don’t be late,’ Maryse said, and the call ended. Alec was left staring at the phone like it would give him all the answers and tell him how to act around his father, how to speak to Robert without reliving the aftermath of his decisions.

‘Is everything alright?’ Magnus asked, and Alec turned to see him moving down the middle of the hall. He reached Alec and pressed a hand to Alec’s shoulder, rubbing the fabric of his shirt gently with his thumb.

‘Yeah,’ Alec said, and smiled, but even he could tell it wasn’t very convincing. ‘Just…family stuff.’

Magnus nodded in understanding, and Alec couldn’t feel anything but the warmth of Magnus’ hand through his shirt, thumbing just over his collarbone, so new and exciting that lightning seemed to flow through Alec’s veins.

‘Coffee?’ He asked, stepping forward ever so slightly. ‘I’ll pay.’

Alec rolled his eyes and reluctantly stepped away from Magnus with a laugh, moving up the hall to grab his bag. After a moment, Magnus followed him. ‘You paid last time.’

‘I’m trying to be gentleman, Alexander,’ Magnus smiled, tucking the script under his arm. ‘You’re making it very difficult.’

‘Well, you’ve already outdone yourself on that front, so I’m paying for coffee,’ Alec said, and it took Magnus a moment to figure out the meaning behind them, the mischievous kindness. He watched Alec’s shy grin from where he was turned away, folding up the blanket and moving the chair away, grabbing his sketchbook from the floor.

The high afternoon sun dripped, heavy and suffocating, and Alec forgot about his father and his past. Instead, he memorised the way Magnus’ hand hung so close to his when they walked, the way Magnus laughed like he’d never known sadness or anger, and pushed down his overwhelming desire to ask Magnus out for dinner.

That night, with his legs tangled in the covers and his breathing evening out, steady and slow, Alec’s phone buzzed.

 

[00:37] _thank you for today, alexander. i hope you had fun._

 

Alec smiled, his thoughts fuzzy from exhaustion, and thought of warm hands and brown skin glowing in sunlight.

 

[00:39] _I did. Maybe someday we should go to something more than a coffee shop, though._

_I feel like restaurants are more your style :)_

 

[00:40] _wherever we go, i’ll be paying. x_

 

[00:41] _What a gentleman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come chat on tumblr: [@dandymot](http://dandymot.tumblr.com)
> 
> i also have a twitter now!!![@dandymot_](http://twitter.com/dandymot_)

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me on tumblr: @[dandymot](http://dandymot.tumblr.com)!!


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